


Headshots

by EverytimeIDoSomethingStupid (kingkongkitty)



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Actors AU, M/M, smornby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7978993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingkongkitty/pseuds/EverytimeIDoSomethingStupid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy birthday to the wonderful @a-smeethy ! Welcome to adulthood mate :D</p><p>(Yes, this is based off of that Chris Pratt story)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Headshots

The bar was dingy, crowded, throbbing with noise, the music blasting from cheap speakers clashing with raucous laughter, the near constant slam of glass on the wooden bar as people took shots just out of time with the bone-deep thrum of the bass line. Ross sighed internally, the cheap bar proving just how low he’d sunk.

Miserably, he ordered a beer. As the barman draughted the beverage, he let his mind sink back to his old life. Only three months ago, he’d been the talk of the county, back home. He’d gotten five star reviews for his role of Hamlet, for fucks sake. He’d taken the plunge and moved down to London for a shot in the movie industry. Needless to say, it hadn’t worked out. And now he was stuck in a shitty bar, drinking shitty beer, in a three-day-old shirt.

With a grin, the barman slid his drink before him. “I’ll just stick it on the tab then, mate.” Taking the booze silently, and shaking himself out of his miserable stupor, Ross glanced round the bar. There was the usual gaggle of girls huddled in the corner, with too much makeup, too much liquor and far too little clothing. A few tried to catch his eye, but Ross wasn’t in the mood for that kind of company tonight.

Quickly flitting his gaze round the room, his gaze settled on a tall, bearded, auburn haired man slinking around the back of the bar. He was attractive, that was for sure. Hella attractive. But most definitely flirting with the lady virtually hanging on to his elbow. Well, plenty more fish in the sea and all that. But still, a shame.

Slurping more of his beer, Ross kept a discrete tab on the stranger. After a while, the man approached the bar and ordered a drink. From the corner of his eye, Ross saw him sidle up the bar towards him.

“Hey.” The man greeted him with open warmth, a casual friendliness that took Ross aback. Did he know this guy? Had it been a random hookup he’d been too drunk to remember?

“Um… h-hey?” Smooth. Well done Ross.

Awkwardly, the two men made eye contact. The auburn haired man twisting a ring around his little finger while Ross swallowed heavily. The pause grew, stretched, growing in amplitude.

“Did I shoot you?” The man spoke in a blur, words tumbling from his mouth.

Wait, what. Ross’ brain rushed to catch up. “You’ve SHOT PEOPLE?” Immediately, the bar was silent, only the throb of bass remaining, a sea of faces turning towards the two of them with alarm.

The man’s face immediately grew panicked. And he spoke loudly “No! I haven’t shot people! I’m a photographer.” Slowly, the faces turned away in relief, the chatter slowly rising again. A few people closest shuffled slightly away, but quickly the bar returned to normal.

“Oh.” Ross grinned embarrassedly. “Sorry! I just…”

The man grinned, shrugging off Ross’ embarrassment as he explained. “I just meant… do you model? I ‘shoot’ people.”

“No, but I’m an actor? You could’ve seen me?” No, he doubted a high-end photographer in London would have seen his performances up north. “Wait, if you’re a photographer… do you do headshots?”

“Of course.” The man grinned at the stupid question, unfairly attractively in Ross’ opinion. “Why?”

“I need some.”

The stranger nodded. “I can do that. I have a flat two streets away. Lots of natural light, it’ll work a charm.”

“How much will it cost?” Money was running very low. He’d been kicked out of his flat this morning for not being able to pay the rent and even the beer he was drinking now was really more that he could afford to buy.

The taller man tipped his head to the side as he considered, before coming to some sort of agreement with himself. “Just come along. I’ll decide when we’re done.”

—

“Home sweet home.” Smith grinned and pushed open the door to his flat, letting Ross in before shutting it behind them. 

“This is a nice place you’ve got.” As Smith’d said there was lots of natural light. It was minimalistic, black leather furnishings in stark contrast to the blindingly white walls, and even someone with as little skill in photography as Ross could understand why this would be a great place to take photos.

Already, Smith was setting up his equipment, his hands moving easily and familiarly over equipment, adjusting a tripod until it was pointing at an empty wall just so, a chair in shot so he could get a rough focus on the image.

Ross went to stand in shot and was pushed away lightly and turned towards a door at the other end of the room. “Go and shower first.”

“You’ll feel better and pose better if you’re comfortable with how you look.” Smith grinned a little, patting his shoulder as he passed him a towel. “And no offense, but you’re a little ripe at the minute mate.”

“Ok, I get your point.” Ross shut the door with a grin before stripping off and showing, sighing happily at the hot water, and with even more satisfaction when he realized the showerhead had a massage function.

Copious amounts of hot water, shampoo and body wash later and Ross was feeling far more human, toweling off and sticking his head through the bathroom door. He really didn’t want to put the smelly clothes he’d arrived in back on.

“Smith mate. Have you got any clothes I can borrow?”

“Sure. We’re about the same size, give me 5 minutes to find something.”

“Cheers.” Ross finished toweling off, getting his hair as dry as he could while he waited. A few minutes passed before a hand was stuck through the door clutching a bundle of clothes.

Ross grabbed them and pulled them on, dressing himself quickly. The trousers were maybe an inch too long, but the bright blue shirt that’d been picked out of him fit well, if a tad loose around the arms.

“Alright then.” Smith opened the bathroom door, glad that the shirt he’d picked brought out the blue of Ross’ eyes so well. “You ready to get started?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

-=-

“Ok mate, sit like this.” Smith squatted, demonstrating how Ross should pose, leaning forwards just enough to bring definition to the lean muscles of his arms and catch the light at a three-quarter angle, looking at Ross with a critical eye. “Nah, there’s still something off.”

He took a few steps backwards as he puzzled over how to make the shot work, before coming to his conclusion.

“Ok, I think I got it.” Smith moved forwards, standing in front of Ross and messing with his hair a little, teasing the damp strands into a more spiky shape, elongating and maturing his face with little effort.

He moved back to stand behind the camera, checking the focus before looking back at Ross. “Alright, that works. Now, as I showed you.”

-=-

Smith held the professionally printed headshots out to Ross along with a USB stick holding digital copies of the photos they’d decided on.

Ross had been at the man’s house for hours now. First posing for the photos, then shuffling through the hundreds that Smith had taken to pick a scant few out for his page, and then helping with the editing, adjusting filters to get the most dramatic look possible.

“How much do I owe you?” His hand hovered over the pictures cautiously. After all the time the two of them had spent together, the cost per hour on minimum wage would be too expensive for him, let alone the payment for the taking of the photos, editing, meal and the USB drive.

“For you?” The auburn haired man looked at him appraisingly, head to one side as he thought. “I reckon a kiss will do.” 

Ross face was the picture of surprise, wondering if this was some sick joke and in a minute he’d be asked for hundreds of pounds. A kiss he didn’t mind giving, especially not to a man as attractive as Smith. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly, mate.” He nodded with quiet self-assurance, moving closer to Ross with a hunger in his eyes. “Unless you’d rather not. You can have them for free if you want.”

Ross nodded, tongue darting nervously over his lower lip. He didn’t miss how Smith’s eyes tracked the motion eagerly.

“I know what I want…”

Ross closed the difference between them, ignoring the photos held between them and kissing Smith full on the lips, hands reaching for his shoulders as they did. Smith reciprocated, placing the photos to one side and grabbing Ross’ waist pulling him close, deepening the kiss with a grin, his chapped lips moving purposefully over Ross’, drawing him ever closer…

-=-

“You’re struggling with money mate. How did you pay for them?” Trott looked through the professional photos with near astonishment.

Ross smirked, scooping them back up and placing them into an envelope to send to his agent. “On the house. He said my company was payment enough. 

“Is that all?” The dubious look on Trott’s face made Ross’ inside twist with guilt at lying to his friend, but it’d been a week since the photos had been taken and a week since he’d found a stable place to live, and it was going great so far, even if he did walk out of the flat a little bow legged every other morning.

“Of course!”

“But you’re all set up now with a place to live? You’ll be fine wont you?

“Of course I will. The place is pretty minimalistic, white walls, black leather sofa, that sort of vibe. You’d like it. As long as work comes in soon, I’ll be set.” Ross smiled, trying to calm his friend’s nerves. Trott was lucky enough that he’s gotten a solid job in Bristol, and didn’t have to worry like he did about making ends meet. “There are a couple of versions of Hamlet I’m going to apply for over the next few weeks. Don’t worry about me mate.”

His worries soother, the conversation turned back to crude jokes and innuendoes, with the Xbox being switched on after a few hours, at which point their interaction was limited to swearing at each other and jostling shoulders as they battled it out.

After a while though, Ross’ alarm went off and he made his excuses. He had a train to catch and a dinner out tonight. Trott stopped him at the door, “A word of advice before you leave.”

“Yeah?” Ross really hoped it wouldn’t just be more taunts about his humiliating defeat in Fifa, after having his butt kicked in so many of the other games they’d played that afternoon. “Yeah?”

“White shirts don’t hide hickeys.”


End file.
